Doctor's appointment in a little more than an hour. I'm so not looking forward to this.
Why are you dreading it so much?
It's the shrink's office, where I get the spazz meds and the hyper meds. All I want is a subscription but first there's a twenty-minute chat about how I'm feeling right now. The doctors are frequently condescending and utterly clueless.
I was lucky this time, though. There was a 20-minute timeslot, sure, what owuld normally promise to be another mind-numbing affair where I would have to assure that yes, I do have friends, yes, my family life is fine, no, I don't currently harbour suicidal thoughts, and yes, I still use the other meds, but this time, it turned out the doctor was hawt. Not just slightly hawt, but super-hawt. Jaw-droppingly hawt. With every answer I produced, her lips would pout in apparent sympathy and complete empathy. She would cross her perfect legs, lean forward to hint at her perfect cleavage and smile with her perfect teeth, in anticipation of yet another clarification from me.
Bloody hell.